We spend the next hour making our plans.
I try to not upend the table I’m sitting at. The rage never subsides. I feel like I’m a raw bundle of nerves waiting to explode.
And then my phone rings.
“Fuck,” I growl. “Everyone. Out. Now!”
I pick up just as the last few guys clear out and leave me to an empty room.
“Hello?” I answer carefully.
“Artem?”
Svetlana’s voice is shaky and slightly nervous. She’s speaking low, urgent, her normal hint of flirtation completely gone.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“I’m in the compound,” she tells me. “In one of the rooms on the top floor. Don’t worry—I’m safe.”
“Have you seen Budimir yet?”
“No,” Svetlana replies. “I was brought here from the hotel and told to stay in this room. But the place is chaos. Everyone is running around like chickens with their heads cut off.”
“Have you heard anything?”
“They have your wife, Artem,” she whispers. “And I heard a baby cry, too.”
My heart drums so hard that it fucking hurts. The rage galvanizes into purpose.
But there’s hope there, too.
Esme is still alive.
Phoenix is still alive.
And as long as they both still draw breath, I have a fucking purpose.
I have a reason to continue fighting.
“I’ll do what I can, Artem,” she says.
And before I can say another word, the line goes dead.